Close Call
by Gallifrey101
Summary: Sam had done a lot of bad things in his life, but nothing bad enough to deserve this. Destiel.


Sam ruffled a towel through his long, dark hair, relishing in the feel of the motel's - well, everything. It was a quiet place, the _Vacancy_ sign constantly flashing bright green, practically begging people to stay for at least one night. And, in Sam's opinion, anyone who passed up the opportunity was a complete moron.

Sam had gone through years and years of creaky mattresses and grimy bathrooms and couches with unidentifiable stains, but never in his entire life had he stayed somewhere so perfect.

The room was huge, two king beds barely taking up a quarter of the space, pristine and fluffy pillows, blankets, and sheets occupying each one. The rest of the room was taken up by a TV, a microwave, a mini fridge, a pullout couch with cushions that were like heaven for your ass, and a table piled high with magazines, games, and DVDs. Not to mention the bathroom with the huge bathtub - jets included - pristine toilet, and sink that he swore he'd seen in spa magazines. _Not_ that he read those things, of course.

Sure, the place cost a friggin' fortune, but dear God, was it worth it. Sam grinned at his reflection in the foggy mirror, wrapping a towel around his waist as he headed towards the door and -

Stopped.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he listened to his brother's hushed voice through the door. Who the hell was he talking to? Cas was off interviewing some douche bag - a grade A douche bag at that; one who had screamed at them to come back after the stress of being alone in his mansion went away, all with a designer washcloth draped over his forehead - for their case and wouldn't be back for four hours, at least. So who was he -

Sam paled as another noise seeped it's way through the small cracks in the door, echoing in his ears. An easily identifiable noise. A moan, to be exact. And, unfortunately, one that was definitely the exact _opposite_ of pain.

_Dammit._

How long had he been in the bathroom!? An hour, maybe less? Did Dean really leave the motel, go to some bar, pick up a girl, and convince her to sleep with him while his brother was showering about ten feet away, all within the span of sixty minutes!? That bastard!

Another moan ripped through the room and Sam slapped his hands over his ears, resisting the urge to let out a strangled groan. His eyes darted around the room, searching for some route of escape. It was a great motel, really, one that Sam could picture spending his whole life in - you know, if the one and only bathroom actually had _a goddamn window that he could crawl out of!_

Sure, he could just waltz out the door and tell Dean to put on some damn pants if he wanted to. However, walking out of the bathroom and demanding that the two of them should get a room would likely result in him waiting at least ten minutes for them to ignore him, finish, then get dressed when they pleased. And he'd rather endure the audio than the full, graphic show.

He could still hear his brother's breathy moans through his human earmuffs and he vaguely wondered how the hell Dean's voice managed to make it's way past his beefy, moose hands. Was he being loud on purpose!? Had the son of a bitch really not considered that Sam would be scarred for life the minute he stepped out of the shower!?

Sure, Sam had occasionally walked in on Dean and his various 'acquaintances,' but at least back then he'd been able to scream bloody murder, sprint out of the room, and bleach his eyes within seconds of witnessing things no little brother should have to see. Now, all he had were two hands and a few q-tips he considered jamming in his ears to make him deaf for the rest of his life.

He frowned as he realized that being deaf would give him a serious disadvantage as a hunter and would probably get him killed the second he walked out of this room. If he _ever_ got out of this room.

There was no doubt about it. He was stuck. Trapped. In a motel bathroom. Listening to his brother have loud sex through the cracks in the door.

He could just tell today was going to be fantastic.

"Mmm, yeah, you like that, don't you?" Dean panted out, voice strained. "Like my mouth on your chest, sucking your nipples?"

Sam sucked in a deep breath, blinking rapidly. Okay. He could get through this. He was probably already halfway through anyway. And it wasn't like Dean was one for cuddling. The second they finished, he'd probably pull his typical _thanks for the sex, now get the hell out of my room _routine. It wouldn't last long. And it wasn't like he was gonna talk dirty the whole time...right?

"Kinky slut, so eager for my cock."

Fuck his fucking life.

Oddly enough, he couldn't hear her reply. Sam smirked. Maybe she was just lying there, not even going to the trouble of faking it. Man, that would work as blackmail material for _decades. _Then again, it was more likely the sound of Dean moaning with abandon was blocking out her own noises. Sam banged his head against the wall. Why? Why him!?

Another moan. "Fuck. Wish were you here, baby, wish you could see how hard I am for you."

Okay, wait just a fucking minute. The girl wasn't even there!? Was he actually listening to his brother jerk off while some sultry voice whispered dirty words through a phone!?

Sam almost let out a sob. What had his life come to?

Why had Dean called a sex line, anyway? He could easily jerk off with his endless copies of _Busty Asian Beauties_ or whatever crappy porn the motel had to offer. And, sure, this method was probably preferable, but he could just as easily pick up some girl at a bar to say that kind of shit to him in person. What was the point?

"I want you on your hands and knees, baby, your pretty ass in the air. Mmm, wanna pound into you, so hard and deep, want you to beg me to touch your cock. Will you do that for me, angel?"

Sam closed his eyes and let out a pained groan, his hand reaching up to massage his forehead. How selfish could his brother be? It was one thing to -

Sam's thoughts cut themselves off as his eyes snapped open and his jaw dropped. Had Dean just said . . . ?

Sam's mind blanched. He knew he should be hysterical. He knew he should be sobbing and wondering why his life is so tragic and contemplating what would happen after he became catatonic from this trauma. But, unfortunately, his mind was little too busy being filled with thoughts of, _HOLY MOTHER OF FUCKING SHIT, HE SAID TOUCH _YOUR_ COCK, DEAN IS TALKING TO A GUY, HE IS HAVING PHONE SEX WITH A GUY, I AM LISTENING TO MY SUDDENLY GAY BROTHER HAVE GRAPHIC PHONE SEX WITH A GUY, WHAT IS MY LIFE? _to be disturbed.

Since when in the hell was Dean into guys? Sam bit his lip, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think back. For all of his life, Dean had been borderline homophobic, calling Sam a girl and saying he was queer and a bunch of other shit way too childish for Sam to even give a second thought about. He'd always thought Dean was projecting his own insecurity onto him. Had his own insecurity simply been that he wanted to fuck guys?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that this would make the most amazing blackmail material ever handed to him.

"You love it, don't you?" Dean continued, bringing Sam back to the harsh reality of bathrooms and perverted older brothers. "Knowing we could be caught. Sam's just in the other room, sweetheart. You know how easy it would be for him to hear you screaming my name? You're so loud. You just _love_ the idea of being caught with your dick in your hand, don't you, baby? Wanna let people see how hard you are for your Sir."

Okay, so, three things. First off, there's no way in hell Sam would be able to hear the other guy because Dean is too busy moaning like a god damn porn star for him to actually process anything else. Secondly, Dean _knew_ that Sam could be dying of indecent exposure in the bathroom and he was encouraging it!? What the hell was wrong with him!? And last, but oh, certainly not least, Dean actually knew the guy enough to tell him about his brother!?

The gears turned in Sam's head as he paced the bathroom floor, mind overflowing with different possibilities. Okay, so now he knew that there was no way Dean had called a sex line. Whoever was talking to Dean obviously knew him enough to know he had a brother and - ew - it seemed Dean knew his kinks pretty well. So it had to be someone he met before. Some guy he actually cared about, enough to keep his number.

Sam's first thought was the most obvious. What guy was Dean closer with than Castiel? However, as soon as the thought arose, he dismissed it, unable to keep himself from letting out a laugh. Castiel was the most awkward man - well, angel - alive and still hadn't grasped acceptable social norms. There was no way he understood the mechanics of sex. Sam smirked, rolling his eyes at himself. Castiel barely knew how to leave a voicemail! In fact, if Sam asked him if he knew what phone sex was, he'd probably just tilt his head to the side in confusion and ask how it was humanly possible to have sexual intercourse with a phone.

So who did that leave? Dean didn't have that many friends and Sam doubted he'd just randomly chosen some hookup in his contacts to help him get off. Maybe he'd met some guy at the bar last night? That made sense, in a way. But it was unlikely Dean would ever call the same hookup twice, especially if there were still unresolved feelings from last night.

Sam sighed. Well, if there was anything at all he was sure of, it was that he had to get out of this fucking bathroom.

"You close, baby? Mmm, yeah, I know you are, I can hear that strain in your voice, it's how you sound right before you get yourself _filthy_ with your own come."

Sam clenched his eyes shut, praying to every God there was for this to be over soon. What kind of person tortured a younger brother like this?

"What do you need, baby? I know how close you are. You're already riding your fingers, three at least, aren't you, darlin'? Yeah, that's what I thought. You don't even need it though, all you need is my voice telling you how I'm gonna fuck you open with my tongue, how hard I'm gonna pound your tight little ass." Dean's voice dropped an octave and Sam didn't know how the fuck that was physically possible. "You're gonna come just from the thought of me buried deep inside you, aren't you, _Castiel?"_ He slurred the name, his voice fucking _drenched_ with arousal.

And okay. That was it. Sam was dead. He was in Hell. His eternal torment was apparently listening to his brother and a socially awkward angel get off together. Lovely.

"Oh, fuck yeah, that's it, baby, come for me, love hearing you moan." He was breathless, voice choked and strained. Sam clamped his hands over his ears, but of course, that didn't block out the sound of Dean's gasps and moans. "Yes, fuck, Cas, want you, want - fuck, Cas, I can't - "

A loud, high-pitched cry echoed through the room and Sam physically had to restrain himself from dry heaving until he couldn't breathe. Sure, he'd done some horrible things, but nothing bad enough to deserve this!

After what Sam determined to be a reasonable amount of time, he slowly eased his hands off his ears, Dean's labored breathing echoing throughout the small room. "Holy shit," he murmured, a statement which was quickly followed by his laugh. Sam glared at the door. Well, at least someone was enjoying themselves.

"Baby, that was . . . fuck," Dean gasped. Sam rolled his eyes. How eloquent. "Yeah, sweetheart, you did great. You should probably get back to the interview, though."

Sam blinked. This had all happened when Cas was in the middle of the interview!? What the shit!?

"I know, I don't want to go, either, but you're on a job. I promise I'll call you later. God, I miss you so much, Cas."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. Dean missed him? Dean was expressing emotions? What the hell was going on?

"I'll see you soon, right? You won't be long?" Did Dean actually sound pleading? "Okay. Yeah, I know."

There was a long pause before Dean finally spoke again, his voice vibrant and filled with affection. Sam looked at the door with wide eyes. When was the last time he'd heard his brother sound so happy? "Yeah, Cas, I love you too. Come home soon. All right. Bye."

Sam stared at the door, unblinking, jaw opening and closing soundlessly. Had Dean just said he loved him?

Suddenly, a flood of memories came rushing back to him, times when he'd found Dean and Cas curled up together on the couch after watching a movie, Cas coming out of Dean's room in the morning, claiming he'd had a nightmare, the not-so-secret calls Dean took every time Cas was away, the whispering, the giggling, the touching, _the staring._ Sam let out a groan, burying his head in his hands. How could he have been so stupid?

With a sigh, he made his way to the bathroom door and twisted the knob slowly, hopefully giving Dean enough time to cover himself up. He strode out of the room to see his brother sprawled across his bed, face flushed, hair mussed, and jeans - _thankfully_ - zipped. He flashed Sam a euphoric grin, his face a perfect mask of innocence. Sam's hands clenched into fists. That bastard.

"Hey, Sammy," he said cheerfully, his voice hoarse and slurred. "Have a nice shower?"

"Four things, Dean," Sam said as calmly as he could manage, slowly turning to gather his clothes from his duffel. "One: you're a pig and I hate you. Two: I don't want any details. Three: If you're happy, I'm happy." He turned back to his brother who was staring at him with wide eyes and a guilty smile. "And four: from now on, you're getting your own fucking room." He swiftly turned on his heel and stormed back into the bathroom, leaving his ass of a brother staring after him in amusement. Sam glared at his clothes, directing his annoyance at a comfortable cotton blend. What a dick.

He would never forgive him. Ever.

And if Sam happened to feel a wave of compassion wash over him when Castiel came back and threw himself into Dean's arms, he'd simply blame it on post-traumatic stress.

Besides, the two of them would have to endure their own torture of Sam's teasing for months ahead. Not to mention all the things he could tell Cas about the importance of Public Displays of Affection. He was sure Dean would just _love_ to have his boyfriend call him countless pet names in front of every single person they met.

He grinned.

This was going to be fun.

**Oh my God, I'm so happy I finally finished this, I started it in like September and abandoned it for so long! Anyway, I hope you guys like it :) Please feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos!**

**- Gallifrey101**


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